WHISPERS

by Joelle Steele

Milo looked out the window above the kitchen sink. The back yard was drenched, and it was raining buckets. The three Japanese maples were drooping from the avalanche of water that pummeled their dark maroon leaves. The edges of the patio were quickly turning into tiny ponds. Even the birds didn't want to come out and splash around in the bird baths that Aria kept full for them.

Milo suspected that the hanging bird seed dispenser was probably damp if not completely saturated by now. It was the third day in a row that it had poured like this. Aria would merely smile and exclaim that all this water was what kept everything so lush and green.

He didn't care how green it was here. He could live without the rain. It was days like this that he really, really missed the house in California. It hardly ever rained there. The back yard was always nice and dry, and because it was all fenced in, it stayed warm too. He loved to sit out there and enjoy the sweet-smelling fragrances of the pines and eucalyptus, and to watch the wide variety of birds that frequented the yard in that part of the world.

Here in Washington state there were giant Douglas firs – beautiful in their own right – but they didn't produce much fragrance that he'd noticed, and he had a very acute sense of smell. The only thing that ever smelled good were the roses and the little ceanothus bushes, but that was only during the time of year when they were blooming. Only the big rosemary bush was fragrant year-round.

He scanned the yard carefully, looking to see if Cookie had come back from making the rounds of the neighborhood. Convinced she was not back, he returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position for his leg. It had been aching again, just like it always did every time it rained.

He glanced at the clock. It was already half-past five and Aria would be home shortly. She would be furious when she discovered that Cookie wasn't home. She loved that little cat and worried over her as if she were a human child. Aria didn't have any kids, and Milo was thankful for that. He had never cared much for children, and every time Aria's little niece and nephew visited, he found an excuse to be gone for a few hours. He usually just went and hung out at Rico's place. It was always quiet there and no kids to worry about.

California. Yeah, those were the days. And nothing living in a dark, spooky basement to worry about. That place was chock full of mice when they first arrived, but he had taken care of those. But there was still something down there. He had tried again and again to warn Aria about it. She probably already knew or at least suspected something was wrong. You really couldn't miss the soft whispering sound, like the rustle of dead leaves, except there weren't any dead leaves down there. And then there was the sound of people arguing. Milo could hear everything. And Milo was a cat.

Milo didn't like to change houses. It was disorienting to him, and he knew that Cookie felt the same. When he first met Aria, Milo was only three months old, with a black and white coat. She brought him to live with her in a two-story duplex in the hills above the seaside town of Santa Cruz, California. It had a small balcony that overlooked a pine forest. Cookie was two years old when the human next door died, leaving her behind. Aria loved cats and she immediately invited Cookie to join their household. She doted on the little calico and Milo enjoyed the older cat's company.

Everything was great at the duplex, except that Milo tried to catch a bird on the balcony and fell to the ground, injuring his right rear leg in the process. Aria took him to a doctor who X-rayed it and determined it was a sprain. But it still bothered him whenever it was cold or rainy.

Then things at the duplex changed. everything suddenly went to the dogs, or one dog in this case. Aria married the dog lover, Jesse, with his big Irish setter, Bailey. The dog was friendly and got along well with Milo and Cookie. But Jesse was a world class jerk who didn't like cats at all. He frequently kicked them away or threw them off of a chair or bed. Aria and Jesse were fighting almost daily, and Milo didn't like that at all. Jesse was mean, and he and Cookie were stressed with all the yelling.

Eventually, Aria got as fed up with Jesse as Milo and Cookie were. She divorced him after three years, then she promptly rented a truck and moved back to her home state of Washington. She got a job as an archivist for the Washington State Archives in Olympia, where she helped people navigate all the various records when they were researching their family genealogy.

They moved into an older, comfortable rental house on Tumwater Hill with a nice fenced backyard that Milo and Cookie loved. And it was a quiet neighborhood. The only adjustment they had to make was to the much cooler climate of Western Washington.

Milo was happy living on Tumwater Hill. So was Cookie. But, it seemed like they were doomed to move yet again. A year later, Aria's Grandpa Nestor passed away, leaving her a sizeable inheritance and a pre-Victorian house on a rise above the shore overlooking the Budd Inlet in Olympia. Aria reduced her working hours at the State Archives and they settled into their new “old” home.

The house didn't have much in the way of a yard, but it did have lots of windows with wide sills to perch on and enjoy the afternoon sun – if or when the sun was out. And on the first floor there was a large, screened-in sunroom with built-in seating all around and sliding windows to let in fresh air during the warm summers.

There were several cats in the neighborhood, and Milo, now six years old, and Cookie, now an eight year-old, both made friends with them. Milo's best friend was Eddie, who lived a few doors away. He was a large ten year-old brown tabby who lived with Goldie, a shy, petite, six year-old solid grey cat named for her golden eyes. She mostly stayed indoors. There was also a younger cat who lived farther away from his home. His name was Stretch, and he was a solid black four year-old cat who roamed much farther throughout the area than any of the others did.

Then, there were the two old ones. Mouser was a twelve year-old orange, tabby. He had been stray for so long that he didn't even remember if his human had moved away or died. Mouser's best buddy was the one-eyed, Old Wink, a Maine coon with a long, scraggly coat. He was also a stray, and Aria always fed him and Mouser on the little porch off the back door to the garage.

Aria tried to bathe and de-flea Mouser and Old Wink, but Mouser was shy and wouldn’t let her get close enough to pick him up. She had no trouble laying hands on Old Wink. She picked him up, brought him inside, removed his old collar that had tags that revealed his name and a phone number that was disconnected. She brushed out his long fur, gave him a flea bath, put some anit-flea drops at the base of his neck, and put a new collar and tags on him with his name and her phone number, before letting him out again. As a result of being cared for, Old Wink became more friendly until he finally became more than just a part-time member of the household.

Milo and Cookie lived happily in the Victorian with occasional outdoor privileges, during the day only, for a limited amount of time, and only in good weather. And Old Wink now lived happily beside them. Yes, it was a good life, but there was still the matter of the basement. Milo had been the first to notice it. It was the day they moved in. Aria had put their litter box in the utility room where the washer and dryer were located, and that was right next to the basement door that Aria kept closed most of the time.

She was a fastidious human. She was always doing laundry, and the basement was where she hung her sweaters to dry. Turned out it was the warmest room in the house. The old furnace was there and it radiated an enormous amount of heat in the basement.

Milo had gone to use the litter box for the first time. Fresh litter, nothing better. But as soon as he stepped in and began to dig a hole, he heard sounds coming from the basement. At first it sounded like the rustling of dead leaves, but then it sounded more like human voices arguing. He quickly backed out of the box, kicking cat litter onto the floor as he scrambled out and ran into the kitchen. He could wait a few minutes to do his business until, hopefully, Aria opened the pet door to the outside.

Milo wondered who might have done something wrong in the basement. Otherwise, why was there the sounds of rustling leaves and voices arguing. Aria was doing laundry and he stepped into the laundry room to urgently use the bathroom. She almost stepped on him, but he felt more and more comfortable because when he just quietly wandered into that room, when Aria was there, he didn’t have to worry about anyone coming in from the basement all of a sudden. There was a small staircase leading down into that room, but as far as he knew, Aria only went down to hang her sweaters out to dry. She had let the heating man in, and he seemed to be fine when he was finished. Nobody else had ever gone down there since. Least of all Milo or Cookie.

Milo realized that the basement was haunted just a day or two after they moved in. He wasn’t sure what was going on in that room, and Aria didn’t seem to notice anything wrong at all. He wished he could speak her language. He only understood a few of her words. Like when she called them to come inside for the night, which wasn’t that often. He and Cookie and Old Wink were always sitting in the back yard somewhere. Occasionally, Milo went to visit other cats, or they came by to visit him and Cookie. It was a very congenial neighborhood with Eddie, Mouser, and Stretch in it. And occasionally Goldie.

They had all discussed the basement problem. Eddie was interested, but Goldie, not so much. Eddie was the kind of cat who was very easy-going. Rarely complained or acknowledged anything going on around him. Mouser and Stretch were somewhat interested, but they lived … well … they lived farther away. They had never been in or even been near the basement. And Old Wink? Well, he was older, and he heard the sounds from the basement, but he didn’t have quite the curiosity about them that Milo and Cookie did.

Milo was frustrated. He didn’t want to investigate the basement by himself. He wanted at least one of his neighborhood pals to help. He was tired of using the litter box in the laundry room. He tried to go outside instead. But this was Washington. It rained. And it rained. And it rained. And sometimes, when it wasn’t raining, it was freezing cold. It was now January, and it was cold and rainy and windy.

Milo and Cookie coaxed Old Wink to come indoors. He was used to hiding behind the wood pile. But this time, Old Wink came indoors and looked around. He sniffed the furniture, ignored the room with the cat box in it, and settled himself down on one of the sofas. Cookie joined him on the opposite sofa.

Milo didn’t like to be near the laundry room at all. But he was doing his duty, guarding Aria. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. She was his caretaker, and she took care of Cookie and Old Wink … and Mouser too. They all needed her.

It was late at night and Milo was wandering to the cat box. He hoped nothing would be waiting for him there. But there was. It was Old Wink. He was just coming out of the laundry room. Milo was okay with him using the cat box, and Aria was just plain happy to have him there. Milo and Old Wink rubbed up against each other as they passed. Old Wink was cold and tired and headed into the kitchen for some food. Milo could hear him chewing on some of the dry food that Aria left out every night.

Milo hurried up and hopped into the cat box. He started to dig a hole, when he heard voices whispering and the sound of leaves rustling. He was scared and he hurriedly took care of business and then covered his hole. He ran out of the room and back to Aria’s bed, where he cuddled up with Cookie. And then Old Wink appeared and also cuddled up next to Cookie.

He was surprised to find Old Wink there. He had never really shown any interest in the house before now, and here he was quietly nestled there next to Aria. Milo snuggled up against Aria between Cookie and Old Wink and went to sleep.

During the night it rained heavily. Milo woke up and went to the kitchen where Aria was busily making breakfast for herself. Swedish pancakes, something she grew up with. She had already finished filling up the cat bowls with canned food, and there was fresh water in the bowl. There were now three cat dishes instead of two. And two of them were empty. Milo finished off the third bowl and then went into the living room to find Cookie and Old Wink looking out the windows down towards the water of the Budd Inlet. They each turned around and then looked back at the water as Milo entered the room.

Milo was curious about what they were looking at, and then he saw it. There by the water was the body of a black cat, and it looked just like Stretch. Just then Aria entered the living room and she was about to say goodbye for the day when she saw them looking out the windows. She entered the room, and she saw it too. But she wasn’t that sure about whether it was Stretch, who she had never met but who hung out in the yard occasionally.

“Bye kitties,” she said as she turned around and headed out the door to the garage.

Milo continued looking out the window, and Cookie and Old Wink continued looking out. Milo got down from his spot and could hear the sound of Aria’s car starting up and puling out of the garage. After she pulled out, he could hear the garage door closing. Today, he was going to try to find out what was in the basement.

Milo headed for the laundry room. It was quiet. He was tempted to use the litter box, but that could wait. He wanted to find his way to the bottom of the stairs. But somehow, he had to get that door open. He waited patiently, then heard the sound of people arguing and the sound of rustling leaves. He went closer to the door. He tried to nudge his front paw against the crack in the door. Voilà! It opened just a crack. He stood there for a moment, listening. The voices and the rustling leaves continued to make their sounds.

Milo listened, and then from behind him came Cookie. She was interested, but mainly came in to use the littler box. She stopped to listen and then stepped into the litter box. Milo looked at her and then at the door. He pushed it open further with his head and then landed on the first step. The sound of the voices and the leaves stopped instantly. Milo stopped and listened.

Suddenly, the voices and the leaves began to make their sounds again. The voices were loud. Milo stood on the top step and listened. He couldn’t figure out what they were saying. They were arguing. He went down a couple more steps, being as quiet as he could be. The leaves sounded like they were rushing across the floor, old and dry. Milo couldn’t figure out what was going on here. He took another couple steps down. This time, all the sounds stopped.

Milo decided to head down the steps. He finally stopped when he hit the basement floor. He looked around and didn’t see anything. The floor was clean, Aria’s two sweaters were hanging overhead. There were no voices. There was nothing … then there were voices again! This time they were clearer. Milo wondered if they were coming from the house next door. No, not likely. That house was sitting on a very large lot, and it was too far for them to be heard all the way to his house.

He strained to understand what the voices were saying, but he couldn’t make them out. Meanwhile, the leaves were there again. But they weren’t on the concrete floor of the basement at all. They seemed to be coming from everywhere, and so were the voices. How come Aria couldn’t hear them.

A few days later, Milo sat in one of the windows, looking outside, trying to find a comfortable position for his leg. The body of the cat he knew as Stretch was now gone, and he knew what had happened to him. Aria had gone out and removed him. She put him in a garbage bag and then put him in the trash can. Milo felt sad. How could she put him in the trash like that? He hoped he wouldn’t end up that way. He hoped that she would at least bury him.

He avoided the basement. No reason to go down there again. He couldn’t understand what the voices were saying anyway. And then it hit him. They weren’t speaking English. That was why he couldn’t understand even a few words. Of course that didn’t help him understand them any better.

What about Old Wink? He wasn’t that good at English. Maybe he knew another language. Maybe he would know what the voices were arguing about. Milo inched over to Old Wink and tried to find out what language he might speak. Of course! Old Wink spoke Swedish. Milo only knew a couple of words of Swedish courtesy of Aria, who was half-Swedish. There were a lot of Swedish people in the area, but Milo knew only a few Swedish words or phrases: god morgon, jag älskar, mat, and fisk.

What words might Old Wink know? If only Milo could get Old Wink into the basement. It was Aria’s day off tomorrow and the next day. He would try to coax him into the basement tonight.

Or not. Old Wink was stubborn. He was old, at least 14 years old, and he didn’t want to travel up and down the stairs. Even after Milo showed him that with his bad leg he could still do stairs.

Old Wink finally stepped out onto the small landing just before the stairs started. He immediately turned around and passed by a disappointed Milo.

Milo would have to try again. If Old Wink couldn’t understand what the voices were saying, well, that would be another story. He followed Old Wink into the area where the windows overlooked the Budd Inlet and he laid down on the sofa next to Old Wink. He tried to coax Old Wink into the basement to listen to the voices, but Old Wink was having nothing to do with it.

Finally, Milo offered to give Old Wink his share of the food for a couple of days. That was it. Old Wink appeared to be one hungry cat. He asked for three consecutive days, and Milo agreed.

They would head for the basement again. This time, Old Wink would go all the way to the bottom of the stairs. It would insure that he could hear everything really, really well. And Milo would go with him. Milo led the way, with Old Wink following closely behind. The leaves were rustling, and Old Wink looked around the room, but didn’t see or hear anything. Suddenly, the voices were there. They were arguing again, and Old Wink knew it.

He told Milo exactly what they were saying: “You cannot leave me here. I will die here” followed by “I will leave you here until you do die.” The rest of it was hard to interpret because it was a combination of yelling and crying. It sounded to Old Wink like: “Please, I beg you, please, please.” The man was pleading for his life! Milo wanted to let Aria know this. He was already dead, left to die in the basement. But where?

Old Wink had already headed upstairs. He had acted as a translator and now his job was done. Back to the comfort of the living room. Milo stayed behind. He sniffed around, looking for some sign that a man had once been left to die in what was now somebody’s basement. He looked for any signs that someone had opened the walls or the floor. Nothing.

But then he started looking underneath the stairs and behind the heater. There was nothing under the stairs, but there was an old space behind the heater. Of course, only Milo could see it when he walked between the wall and the heater. It was a large, sloppy patch, almost four feet tall and wide. Milo was sure this was where the voices were coming from, but how to tell Aria?

It was a sunny Sunday morning, and Milo was determined to show the patch to Aria. She wasn’t doing any laundry today. Instead, she was cleaning the house. Milo followed her around, always underfoot, always crying. Aria stopped and picked him up, petted him, but Milo didn’t respond the way he usually did. Instead, he looked into her eyes and cried.

That definitely got her attention. She immediately headed into the laundry room to check the cat box. It was still clean from earlier that morning. Milo immediately wanted to go downstairs. He meowed like crazy to get her attention, to make her come downstairs with him. He stood at the door, looking first at the door, then at Aria, then back at the door.

“You want to go downstairs, Milo?” she asked, not expecting a response.

Milo stood at the door and started to walk downstairs. Aria decided to follow him. Milo walked quickly down the old stairs and directly over to the heater, where Milo walked behind it, still meowing.

Aria walked towards him, but she couldn’t come behind the heater where he was standing, crying loudly. She picked the flashlight off the top of the heater and flashed it in Milo’s direction. There it was. She could see it. And Milo knew she could see it.

“I don’t know what that is, Milo. Looks like some sort of hole that was patched a long time ago. Long before this heater was installed. I’ll call the heating man and ask him what it is … or what it used to be.”

Milo felt relieved. It sounded like she was going to look into the heater. He went into the sunroom where Old Wink and Cookie were both napping. He woke up Old Wink and told him that Aria was going to have someone look into the wall.

But there was still that sound of rustling leaves. How did they fit into this story of the man pleading for his life? A few days passed, and Milo was still wondering. Meanwhile, the heating man was coming up the driveway.

Aria showed him the heater and the patch in the wall behind it. He said he would move the heater and they could examine the patch. Milo stood nearby, watching them. The heating man was young, but he seemed to know what he was doing. He turned off the old furnace and then slowly and carefully moved it away from the wall.

He and Aria talked about the patch for a few moments, and then she looked around for something to crack it open. It was an old shovel. She handed it to the heating man and he slammed it against the plaster, which fell all over the floor. He pulled the remaining plaster away and they looked inside.

“Oh my God!” said Aria.

Milo walked towards her to get a better look. Inside the wall was a hole, and there were the bones of a man whose hands and feet were bound. There was no way that he could get out. That was what all the screaming and arguing was about.

And as he looked more closely, he could see the leaves surrounding the man. He had been buried in leaves to muffle his screams, the leaves that Milo kept hearing, rustling in the background. And now, those sounds would stop altogether. The basement room was silent.

Aria called the police, and they came out immediately. She told them how her cat had lured her to the basement and to the heater. There were several people accompanying the police. They photographed the body before they removed the bones from the wall.

“These are the bones of Charles Stahler,” said one of the policemen. “They were never found, and they searched this house for him twice. He was a friend of the former owner, Mikel Johansson.”

“That’s who my grandfather, Nestor Lindstrom, bought this house from,” said Aria. “Mikel had the house for at least 55 years, up until about 1988. That’s when Nestor bought it, and when he died in last year, I inherited it.”

The police gathered up their belongings and left the house. It was just another cold case that was solved for them. Milo felt comfortable using the cat box and venturing down into the basement, now that the sound of rustling leaves and arguing voices were finally gone.

And life went back to normal for Milo, Old Wink, and Cookie.